


Never Knew My Heart Could Sing

by deandratb



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb
Summary: The first time Lucien heard Jean sing. Deleted scene, set during 2x01.It was a slow song, sweet and yearning, but not one he had heard before. Curious, he took his glass with him and followed the sound.





	Never Knew My Heart Could Sing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by a request from [asummerevening](https://asummerevening.tumblr.com) for more singing; headcanons accepted from the tags on [this post.](https://asummerevening.tumblr.com/post/166554564650/savedher-waitingforturnips)

Lucien stared at the creased photograph of his daughter, now grown into a lovely young woman, and swallowed the rest of his whiskey. He had missed so much time...the most important years...and now it was too late. 

Oh, they had exchanged postal details, promised to write, but he knew it could never be what it was. Or what he had hoped. His little girl was gone, taken by time and distance, instead of war. It was no less cruel of fate.

Pouring three more fingers into his glass, he tucked the picture away. At least now he had his answers. And he was home.

Capping the bottle and putting it back in his desk, Lucien heard the radio start playing down the hall. 

_“April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom, holiday tables under the trees...”_

It was a slow song, sweet and yearning, but not one he had heard before. Curious, he took his glass with him and followed the sound.

_“April in Paris, this is a feeling that no one can ever reprise...”_

As soon as he opened his door, he realized his mistake. There was no radio; it was Jean, singing in the kitchen. Strange, he thought, that he had never heard her singing before.

_“I never knew the charm of spring, I never met it face to face, I never knew my heart could sing, I never missed a warm embrace...”_

Her rich, clear tone drew him closer. He might have felt guilty about eavesdropping--there was certainly something intimate about the way she carried the tune--but not enough to stop himself from lingering in the doorway, just out of sight. 

_“Till April in Paris...whom can I run to...what have you done to my heart?”_

He watched her dry dishes at the sink, humming the chorus, until she turned his way mid-note and nearly dropped a plate.

“Oh! Lucien.” Jean stared, hand pressed to her chest and face pink with embarrassment. “I thought you’d gone to bed. Did I wake you?”

“No, you didn’t disturb me. I was still up.” He took a seat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

When she paused to look at him, not sure if he was teasing her, he shot her a smile. “Please, carry on.” 

Not teasing, Jean decided after a moment. But far too amused at her expense. “That’s quite all right, Lucien. I was finished.”

“You weren’t. I cut you off on low C.”

She raised an eyebrow. Never lost a moment to show off his musical training, did he? “Well, I’m done now.”

“Ah. That’s a shame.”

“No, it was silly of me. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I could have woken the whole house.” Truth be told, she hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d had Joy McDonald’s words echoing in her head all day-- _”and what about yourself, Jean?”_ \--alongside the memory of Lucien smiling at her fresh off the bus...and she was just so happy to have him home. 

Mattie was lovely company, when she wasn’t working or off with her friends, but with Danny gone to Melbourne and no office to run, it had been...lonely. 

She hadn’t dared hope for his return. If it were her, finding a child she had feared was dead--maybe finding a long-lost spouse as well--she couldn’t imagine parting with them again. Not for anything; certainly not when all that awaited Doctor Blake was a family business he had struggled to settle into and a town that didn’t quite trust him.

_And **her,** of course...but what did that matter in the grand scheme of things?_

Shaking her head, Jean caught him watching her, still grinning fondly. “What is it, Lucien?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just glad to be back, Jean. Very glad indeed.” Crossing to her, he took the towel from her hand and began drying a bowl. 

She hadn’t even realized she’d been twisting it between her fingers until it was gone; he made her so nervous, sometimes. 

“You don’t have to do that, Lucien,” she admonished him gently. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Yes, I know.” Ignoring her, he put the bowl away and picked up a glass. “So, what was that song you were singing? It was lovely.”

“Oh, just something I heard on the radio.” Something that reminded her of the life she had dreamed of as a girl...something that had made her think of him on the other side of the world, whenever it played. 

There was a faint flush to her cheeks when Lucien turned to look at her. He wondered why. Perhaps she was embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming; it was a very romantic song, after all. “Well, it was nice. Do you have a fondness for Paris?”

“I’ve never been, of course.”

“What does that matter?”

His no-nonsense tone amused her, as though it could make perfect sense to love a place you had never been. To him, perhaps it did. 

“I’ve always wanted to see it,” she admitted. Smoothing a hand over her hair, Jean couldn’t help feeling self-conscious with his blue eyes fully focused on her. That piercing gaze of his made her stomach flutter, and followed her into her dreams some nights. 

She doubted he knew it. Being so intensely focused--and sincerely curious--was just his way. As was surprising her, whenever she thought she had him figured out.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

She blinked. “There’s no need to flatter me, Lucien."

“It’s the truth. I was surprised not to have realized it before. But of course you would; I bet they were lucky to have you in the choir.”

“Oh, I never joined the choir.” She waved the thought away. “I had the boys and Christopher and the farm to mind, and before that...well, it wouldn’t have been right.”

Confusion was plain on his face. “What do you mean?”

“My family didn’t approve.” She shrugged at the memory. “I was such a flighty thing as a girl, always dreaming, with a tune on the tip of my tongue. They called me ‘songbird,’” she added quietly. Her eyes were sharp with guilt when they met his. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

He could see it so easily in his mind, and hurt for the girl she used to be. Willowy and soft, flyaway curls and hope as bright as her eyes... _how dare they shame her for having dreams? What other needs had she shoved down to please her family, tried to ignore?_

Jean sighed. “Anyhow, it would have been inappropriate, to join the choir against their wishes. I helped out at church in other ways.”

“And stopped singing.”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure why he had latched onto that so strongly, why it seemed to bother him so much. “Well, for the most part,” she added, remembering what had brought him to the kitchen in the first place.

“Right. So, now you only sing when no one’s listening?” 

The entire conversation was growing more mortifying by the minute. He didn’t give her the chance to figure out how to answer. 

“What was different about tonight?”

Tired of the questions, she brushed past him and headed for the living room. “I was in a good mood.” _And she hadn’t realized he could hear her._

“Oh?”

He was going to make her spell it out, wasn’t he? Lucien Blake could be such an insufferable man sometimes.

Jean sat on the couch, watching him as he approached. “We’re happy to have you home.” 

Lucien’s grin was mischievous around the edges. “We.”

“Well, Mattie...and me. We--I--missed you, very much.”

He sat, next to her instead of in his usual chair. They were rarely this close. It made her skin hum where their arms almost touched. 

“I missed you...both...as well. You must know how--” He stopped himself. She couldn’t be expected to know anything he didn’t say, could she? Especially those things he tried so hard to keep from her, for both their sakes. 

Being away, receiving confirmation that Mei Lin was really gone--it had forced him to confront the truth. Jean wasn’t simply his employee, someone he could hold at arm’s length the way his father had. She was so much more, in ways that really weren’t proper. Ways that would only make her uncomfortable. 

"That is, Jean...I’m very glad to **be** home. With you, both.”

She nodded, betraying no hint that she’d caught his hesitation. “Well. We should be getting to bed, Lucien. It’s late.”

As though she hadn’t been up doing chores only moments ago, he agreed easily. “Of course. You’re quite right.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She stood, brushing restless hands over her clothes.

Sitting so close had been a mistake, albeit a deliberate one that he hadn’t considered the price of. Her scent would stay with him, flowers and vanilla haunting him until he woke aching and alone. Knowing that, he could forgive himself the small weakness of a parting shot.

“Jean?”

She turned back, a hint of wariness in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I hope to hear you sing again, soon.” 

Jean smiled a little. “All right, Lucien. Sleep well.”

His words spread warmth through her as she went to her room. He must have meant it, when he said he liked her voice. Lucien liked a part of her that she’d learned to stifle--a part that longed to be free, almost as much as Jean herself.

As she slept that night, her dreams were happy ones. 

And in the future, when he asked her to sing...she always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from "April in Paris" by Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong.


End file.
